the brush drips paint
red paint
dripping all the while
leaving a trail behind
a shadow always following
a mark of everywhere
the brush has been
its slows
eventually dries
scabbing at the bristles
until the rain falls
dragging the red down
deep into the ground

How GOD must feel
looking down at his creation
not pride or accomplishment
but grief at how we take advantage
how sad it must be
to watch us harm and hurt eachother
how much pain He must feel
to see us the way we judge
the way we look down
put down
lie, cheat, and abuse eachother
how our blood now runs green
green with envy, green with greed
the way we hate, beat and kill eachother
what a dissapointment
let down
how heavy He must feel
to hear our sorrows
our cries and prayers to Him
begging Him
to deliver us from eachother
from the pain we inflict on eachother
devils advocates
how quickly we forget our blessings
how easily we forget
just how quickly He can make us remember
only God has the power
to show us whose God